


I Am Crazy: A Metamorphosis Story

by Purplefern



Series: Mutation World Stories [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Because it's true, Diary/Journal, Gen, Human Experimentation, I'm Bad At Titles, Introspection, Mad Scientists, Sci-Fi, Transformation, all of my stories will have that tag, beginning of a larger world, body horror?, eventually, horror?, on self, pov of a mad scientist, well he doesn't think he's mad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplefern/pseuds/Purplefern
Summary: You find a journal and read the words of a man done with humanity. In it, he questions the value of being human, and takes matters into his own hands to fix what's wrong with it.





	I Am Crazy: A Metamorphosis Story

I am crazy. I’m afraid that this is a fact. Ever since second grade, when I was but seven years old, I’ve been crazy. You want to know why? How it was that I was crazy at mere seven years of age? It’s simple. At seven was when I decided that being human was greatly overrated.

Humans are either weak or cruel, and the worst of them are both. I’ve had enough experience with all these kinds of filth that humanity has created.  And while they‘re living these cruel lives, they live there trapped. Doomed to endlessly repeat their days over and over. Turning their existences boring, repetitive,and utterly  _ pointless _ . Running the rat race as it’s called. Rat race, what an appropriate phrase for the endless directionless way lives go. Going to work and staring at screens for hours on end, eating their pre-prepared empty meals, and coming home to stress and spouses and arguments, in order to go to work again, and doing it again and again, never truly getting anywhere. School and work and taxes and arguments and all those mundane problems that make up our lives would seem like nothing, they would truly be nothing, to any mutant, plant monster, human-turned-alien. 

At seven I realized all this, and I began to dream, in the darkness of night and the quiet of day, what it would be to be rid of this form,of this life, and to wear some other shape. I consumed, with ferocity, any story I could find about non-humans, or better, of humans becoming non-humans, while sitting in my only protective comfort in the form of my beloved dogs. It always upset me if a character was restored to his or her human form, I thought it better for him/her to stay where they were. What’s good about being human? It’s entirely overrated. 

You must think I’m crazy. 

Well, I certainly hope you do, otherwise that would mean you haven’t paid any attention at all. 

Oh, and I dreamt. I _dreamt_ and _longed_ and _wanted_ to be like any of those other characters, ones that-- to my eye-- got to escape normality and weakness, even if it was for only a brief time. But now, now that I’ve gone through a whole childhood, adolescence, adulthood, _years_ learning all I could about what makes the human gene _it_ , now I know. Now I _can_. I have it here in my hand, my escape from normalcy and monotony and _weakness_. 

You’re glancing away from this passage nervously, now, I can tell. You’re worried just what this mad-man is planning to do to himself, though you guess. Yes, you guess. Maybe you didn’t quite believe my intro, maybe you doubted, thought I was exaggerating. I  _ am  _ crazy. 

Although, as I write my thoughts, I wonder if it is in fact  _ me  _ that is crazy. Humanity, after all, does untold numbers of horrible, unbelievable things. The harshest cruelties, and greatest crimes were all done by humans. Am I really so crazy for wanting to escape a world where murderers end innocent lives when they’re just beginning, or parents injure their own children? Is it so crazy to want a life outside of the endless cycle of the common rat-race?

But don’t worry, crazy or not, I’m not dangerous. What natural weapons does the body of  _ homo sapiens _ possess that I could use to harm anyone? No, I’m not dangerous. Not  _ yet,  _ anyway. 

No, not while the formula comprised of years of genetic research sits useless in my hand, giving me a glimpse of all the possibilities. I can hardly contain my excitement, my hand is shaking, making the liquid in the needle shiver and quake as though it, too, is excited to see how my metamorphosis comes about. As if the dna taken from my oldest dog, my dearest family member, is alive in there and encouraging me. Lisa always was like a mother to me, more so than my defenseless biological mother. Of course she would be encouraging me in this amazing turning point. Maybe she even realizes, like I do, that I am truly becoming more like her son by fusing her essence with my own. That my transformation will only bring us closer. 

Yes, my transformation, this is my escape from the bonds of humanity, aren’t you paying attention? And once I do it, once I use it, I will be free. Free from this fragile and scrawny body that is so easily beaten and broken, free from the fair too-delicate skin that burns and bruises. Free from the human life that held pain and abuse and torment, but at the same time was cripplingly worthless and monotonous. Free at last. 

* * *

 

I’ve done it. My theories were right, my formula worked. Although it is more difficult to manage now, these hands no longer meant to write, I feel I must. I must describe what this was like to you, you must know.  How could I possibly begin? 

I see it, feel it, all again through my mind’s-eye, reliving it as clearly as if I were going through it a second time: pointing the needle to the delicate flesh of the inner arm, injecting the golden release up and into my veins. The beautiful burn of freedom as it courses through me, bones snapping and reshaping, claws extending, the world’s whole hue shifts and changes into glorious reds and blacks and violets. Some fool screams in pain at this miraculous change, as entire facial structures shift and morph, and the cursed human nose-blindness melts away and the creature can finally truly sense the world. Such delicious pin-pricking sensations as coarse fur works its way out of every single pore on the thing’s hide. And still that fool screams, on and on and on. It annoys the creature, the weak human’s screams, too reminiscent of its early days, when it was the best it could do to lock up and hide in a room, nothing more than a pathetic and defenseless child. But soon, as the blissful pain recedes, so, too, do the pathetic wails. And then the creature doesn’t slightly resemble that weak whelp of its memories. Now, it’s strong. Strong and free. 

And such freedom! Such glorious freedom! Rid of the human race at last. It – I-- look around the human laboratory, and destroy it. High processing computers, expensive and powerful microscopes-- a compilation of decades, centuries, of the desire to more fully understand, and through  understanding, conquer, the world-- shredded to scrap under my claws. Meaningful to that insignificant human life, but I am free of that, now. You see, dear reader? My heart beats fast and foreign in my pointed ears, a glorious music, the very song of my triumph! 

You sicken now, reader. You sicken at how the scientist revels in his corrupted humanity, you think that he is wrong to be so happy. 

But he- I- am not wrong. I stand here, cloaked now in warm fur, tearing off the shreds of useless cloth that stick to me, with powerful muscles yearning to run and chase, and a sense of the world that makes humans seem blind, and I am happy. Oh, so happy. And, you know, dear reader? It’s a shame. A horrible shame that you cannot know what I feel. That you can only guess from my writings. It really is a shame that all humans should be trapped in their pathetic flesh, never to truly experience the world. But, I know how to… _ yes.  _ Yes, I  _ could.  _ Oh! Oh! I could, I could! It would all work very well. I could free everyone. I could free  _ you _ , dear reader. Yes, free you from your bonds, free the  _ whole world _ . 

Don’t worry, reader. As I said, I am not dangerous. Even now, while I could kill you with little effort, I have no reason to. I don’t want to kill you. I only want to liberate you. 

Even now, as you still turn the page to see where this ends up, I could find you by then. Give you the formula, and you would know for yourself what I feel. It is only painful for a little while, and then it only gets better. We can go to the whole world. 

Yes, yes, I think I will. It will be hard, especially with my lab unfortunately destroyed, but a labor of love. Love for you, reader, you sat through this story, listened to a man even when he admitted that he was crazy. I’ll repay you, now. I will repay you in full.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the beginning of a larger world I have in my head, and that I've written a few stories in. I'll get those other stories posted at some point, but the basic idea of it is that this guy succeeds in mutating large amounts of the public out of misplaced (and crazy) goodwill. So, hope you enjoyed whatever-this-was. R&R, and leave kudos, I guess? (Still a little new to the site, not entirely used to kudos being a thing.)


End file.
